


la dolce vita

by bubbleteahime



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Established Relationship, Gen, M/M, Modern Era, Politics, Vacation, can be read as romantic or not tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2019-02-09 03:25:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12879180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bubbleteahime/pseuds/bubbleteahime
Summary: It's hard for them to forget that life is not all sweet and charming and lovely, even when they're driving along the gorgeous rugged coast of Cinque Terre for a (much-needed) vacation in the summer of 2013.





	la dolce vita

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iuius](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iuius/gifts).



> happy birthday my dear friend!

It is a scene from the movies: the sky, an idyllic blue, and the sun, casting a nostalgic golden glow on everything it touches. It’s the sweet atmosphere caramelized in postwar cinema, the silver screen 50’s in 2013. Idly, summer dips a toe into the world. A cherry red sports car—vintage Ferrari, 250 GT California Spyder—zips along the glittering coast of Cinque Terre.

Italy has an elbow outside the car, a hand on the steering wheel. No matter how careless people think he is, he does take care of his cars. He is driving at a perfectly reasonable speed (Italian standards) on the serpentine road that most tourists wouldn’t take. Actually, this is more a stroll on an automobile than anything else. He feels no shame in that; after all, he doesn’t own a villa here for nothing. The view is quite lovely, quite lovely indeed.

He tilts his head in a sideways glance and stifles a grin: Germany’s posture is conflicted, smack in between rigid and relaxed. His seatbelt is firmly fastened, his arms well inside the automobile, but his back is snug against the leather seat. Italy knows the language of Germany’s body better than his own.

Germany looks so cool, with the breeze in his pale gold hair and shades over his blue eyes, and all Italy wants to do is disrupt that.

“I can go faster if you like,” he offers lazily in Italian, stepping on the gas pedal for a brief gust of speed just to see Germany blanche.

“ _Italien, nein_ ,” Germany releases a chuckle (and his grip on the armrest) as the car resumes its original pace. They always speak in their respective languages, understanding each other perfectly. “I know we’re technically immortal, but let’s not push it.”

“You seemed a bit tense, that’s all,” Italy leans back into his seat, his flippant shrug offset by a playful smile. Waves roll against the stony cliffs, candy-colored houses emerge on the high rocks around the bend. “Worried about September?”

“Perhaps, a little,” his smile is taut with upcoming federal elections. “Not that I think _Alternative für Deutschland_ is really worth being concerned about, but...” The look he gives Italy is bleak, dimmed with history.

Italy sighs then purses his lips thoughtfully. He forgets sometimes, that Germany’s history is quite short in comparison. In the long course of history, however, there's still a sliver of hope that they’re heading in the right direction.

In a voice lighter than he feels, he tells Germany, “Even I pushed through with _Movimento 5 Stelle_ , didn’t I?”

Although he doesn’t think he sounds all that convincing ( _porca puttana_ , they are the second most voted for in the Chamber of Deputies), he gives his most assured smile. The verbal, emotional, tactile reassurance, from his understanding, is something Germany needs but seldom asks for. “You’ll be fine,” Italy says firmly, putting a hand over Germany’s.

“ _We’ll_ be fine,” Germany corrects after a brief silence, a flicker of something brilliant in his reserved smile. Despite being known for a certain brand of pessimism, there's an odd sense of hopefulness in Germany that Italy cannot quite relate to anymore. “We’ll work together. Us, our bosses, the EU. Yes?”

The sound of the wind seems unbearably loud, somehow. Without Italy noticing, Germany has maneuvered their hands to be interlocked. Italy looks up from their hands to the road, making a turn before nodding slowly, cautiously. “Yeah,” he murmurs quietly.

There’s still a lingering thrum of anxiety, like the steady hum of the engine as they drive. Even though his new Prime Minister is keen on deepening relations with EU partners—and Germany—Italy can also feel the doubts of his people prickling in his blood. He cannot fully mean his reply, but he can try to believe in it.

It isn’t just him. He knows Germany and the rest of the EU can all feel it, the unsettling uncertainty and skepticism lurking beneath the surface. He’ll have to remind Germany of that sometime, maybe when they’re not on a vacation.

His eyes are on the road for once. The silence between Germany and him is not entirely silence. There’s also the wind, the waves, birds rejoicing summer, leaves dancing. Cinque Terre, that multi-colored gem, comes into view once more, glittering in late morning sunlight. His heart unclenches, stretches out like a ill-tempered cat waking from a nap.

He's here, and Germany’s here, and it's really such a lovely day out.

Italy lets out a long breath and squeezes Germany’s hand. He thinks about what they’re going to eat for lunch. Under his breath, he starts humming _Nel Blu, Dipinto di Blu (Volare)_ and feels the blue of the summer sky.

“How are you, really?” Germany asks.

“Fine,” he says. He means it. He glances over and pauses at the adorable crease between Germany’s brows. His heart is light, ready for flight.

Germany stares, a mixture of expectant, concerned, and curious.

“ _Va bene, tesoro,_ ” Italy’s lips ease into a graceful, unknowable smile, “I’m _more than fine_ actually.”

Life, in spite of everything, is pretty good.

**Author's Note:**

> Cinque Terre is a string of five fishing villages perched high on the rugged portion of the Italian Riviera, overlooking the Mediterranean Sea. It's known for its beauty and is a popular tourist destination. I headcanon that Italy has a villa here somewhere.
> 
> In 2013, Italy held general elections in February, and Germany held federal elections in September. 
> 
> The recently elected Italian Prime Minister of 2013 was Enrico Letta, who was pro-EU but would later warn against challenges to the EU and also criticize it for austerity measures. He lasted 10 months in office. 
> 
> Alternative für Deutschland (Alternative for Germany) and Movimento 5 Stelle (the Five Star Movement) were both Eurosceptic parties that rose to power in 2013. 
> 
> Movimento 5 Stelle is a bit strange because it doesn't really fit in the far-right or far-left, but it was considered populist, anti-establishment, environmentalist, anti-globalist, and Eurosceptic. It's a pretty...controversial party, so to speak. They believe that vaccines are useless and cause autism? They have movement leaders who are known for being too vulgar and violent? There was also an incident in 2014 where the violence used by Movimento 5 Stelle was reported as reminiscent of fascism. However, people voted for it because they were unhappy with the traditional political parties. 
> 
> Alternative für Deutschland was formed in 2013 and wasn't really taken seriously back then. It is a far-right populist, German nationalist, and Eurosceptic party. As of the 2017 general elections, it holds 94 seats in Bundestag, the lower house of Germany's parliament. 
> 
> "Porca puttana" is a vulgar Italian swear word. Here, it's essentially used as "fucking hell."
> 
> Nel Blu, Dipinto di Blu (Volare) was a popular Italian song released in 1958 by singer and songwriter Domenico Modugno. It was chosen as the Italian entry for Eurovision 1958 and won third place. The song was really popular in America too, topping the Billboard Hot 100 chart for five non-consecutive weeks. Its popularity still endures and is one of the most sung Italian songs.
> 
> "Va bene" is translated as "alright" in this context. "Tesero" means "treasure" in Italian and is used as an endearment.


End file.
